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Her and life
Her friend, Acerronia Polla, was attacked by oarsmen while still in the water, and was either bludgeoned to death or drowned, since she was exclaiming that she was Agrippina, with the intention of being saved, unfortunately she did not know that this was an attempt of Agrippina's life, not a mere accident.
Her journals, which span several decades, provide a deeply explorative insight into her personal life and relationships.
Her response was, " Wait until I'm dead before you make a movie about my life !".
Her Journal was an important laboratory for her creativity serving as both sketchbook and literary experiment where in tiny handwriting she reported on society, recorded her impressions of art and artists, recounted stories, and observed life around her.
Her later work was more introspective in its lyrics as opposed to aggressive ; Hole's Celebrity Skin and Love's solo album, America's Sweetheart, focused more on celebrity life, Hollywood, and drug addiction, while also carrying on past themes of vanity and body image, and Nobody's Daughter was lyrically reflective of Love's past relationships and her struggle to sobriety, with the majority of its lyrics having been written while Love was in rehab in 2006.
Her later life was filled with honors.
Her early and later allegorical and didactic treatises reflect both autobiographical information about her life and views and also her own individualized and humanist approach to the scholastic learned tradition of mythology, legend, and history she inherited from clerical scholars and to the genres and courtly or scholastic subjects of contemporary French and Italian poets she admired.
" Her view of life is so joyful that, true to the film's motif, it crosses a blurred, shifting line into a carefree attitude toward death as well.
Her life was sacrificed to the Haazareth Three ( a group of demons ) by Doctor Doom.
Her mother's death provided her the excuse to retire from public life.
Her emotional life lacked balance, and everything Maria Eleonora undertook on her own initiative needed careful watching.
Her childlessness would be the greatest source of unhappiness in her life.
Her continuing mission: to explore strange new worlds ; to seek out new life and new civilizations ; to boldly go where no human has gone before.
Her birth was sometime between 630 and 612 BC, and it is said that she died around 570 BC, but little is known for certain about her life.
Her father, the sea-god Phorcys, then applied flaming torches to her body and restored her to life.
Her chosen life has one feature her mother cannot appreciate: it allows her to remain in one place.
While the definition and scope of thealogy is currently being defined by the key scholars in the field, thealogy is generally understood as a discourse that reflects upon the meaning of Goddess and Her relationship to life forms.
Her life is dedicated to putting me down but I attempt very strongly not to put her down.
Her history is told in the first person through several letters to friends detailing her life as a courtesan.
Her autobiography Der geschenkte Gaul-Bericht aus einem Leben ( The Gift Horse-Report of a Life ) from 1970 was a candid recount of her life in Germany during and after World War II.
Her illness and death depressed him, and in letters to his sister, Dzerzhinsky explained that he no longer saw any meaning for his life.
The incumbent governor general and his or her spouse are also the only people in Canada, other than serving Canadian ambassadors and high commissioners, entitled to the use the style His or Her Excellency and the governor general is granted the additional honorific of The Right Honourable for their time in office and for life afterwards.
Her work contributed to fundamental changes that occurred during her lifetime in scientific thinking about prehistoric life and the history of the Earth.
Her friend the geologist Henry De la Beche assisted her by commissioning Georg Scharf to make a lithographic print based on De la Beche's watercolour painting, Duria Antiquior, portraying life in prehistoric Dorset that was largely based on fossils Anning had found.

Her and was
Her face was very thin, and burned by the sun until much of the skin was dead and peeling, the new skin under it red and angry.
Her blond hair was frowzy, her dress torn in several places, and her shoes were so completely worn out that they were practically no protection.
Her form was silhouetted and with the strong light I could see the outlines of her body, a body that an artist or anyone else would have admired.
Her mouth, which had been so much in my thoughts, was warm and moist and tender.
Her heart, her maternal feeling, in fact her being was too busy expressing itself, as quietly thrilled by this sight of her Nicolas curled asleep under a blanket, in a park like a scene from Poussin.
Her white blond hair was clean and brushed long straight down to her shoulders.
Her thick hair was the color and texture of charcoal.
Her laugh was hard.
Her face was pale but set and her dark eyes smoldered with blame for Ben.
Her stern was down and a sharp list helped us to cut loose the lifeboat which dropped heavily into the water.
Her name was L'Turu and she told me many things.
( Her account was later confirmed by the Scobee-Frazier Expedition from the University of Manitoba in 1951.
Her mother was a good manager and established a millinery business in Milwaukee.
Her name was Esther Peter.
Her brother Karl was a very gentle soul, her mother was a quiet woman who said little but who had hard, probing eyes.
Her mother, now dead, was my good friend and when she came to tell us about her plans and to show off her ring I had a sobering wish to say something meaningful to her, something her mother would wish said.
Her action was involuntary.
Her name was Mollie.
Her speech was barren of southernisms ; ;
Her quarters were on the right as you walked into the building, and her small front room was clogged with heavy furniture -- a big, round, oak dining table and chairs, a buffet, with a row of unclaimed letters inserted between the mirror and its frame.
Her hair was dyed, and her bloom was fading, and she must have been crowding forty, but she seemed to be one of those women who cling to the manners and graces of a pretty child of eight.
Her voice was ripe and full and her teeth flashed again in Sicilian brilliance before the warm curved lips met and her mouth settled in repose.

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